Ch 10: The Fork in the Road

Aren't you tired of death?

Oh, how her words rang with insipid irony. In truth, Kylo Ren's mind was dizzy from inventing new and creative ways his own men would try to bring him to a swift and violent end for his failure to conquer his weaknesses and just... just get on with it. If his goal was to bring an end to the Jedi - if that's what it would take to return balance to the Force, if that truly was his grandfather's mission - then why was it so impossible for him to bring himself to do her harm? What was it about watching Snoke wrench her spine in unnatural ways that made him totally abandon his principals? The throne was his now, he had a duty. He had an oath. He had a destiny. He could do it this time. He could cut his queer attachment to her just as hard as she'd cut the connection the Force had borne between them. Just as hard as he'd cut his own father out of existence.

He could ignore how engulfed and drowned in pain he'd been since he'd watch the life drain from the man's eyes... since he'd watched the hands that once held him and inspired him reach out for him as they fell and disappeared into a smoldering, dark abyss.

He could ignore how his mind burned with the glowing red line drawn in the dirt at Rey's feet. He could forget the warm peace that had coursed through him when her hand had landed on his shoulder... when she'd taken his hand into her own from across an entire galaxy...

The fault behind his difficulty to land the fatal blow lay with Snoke to be perfectly honest. The bond between him and the girl - the root of his own shameful act of self-betrayal - had merely been a tool by design, nothing more. An artificial machination. It was useless. It was meaningless. He could let it die - he could. When next they met, he would have no choice now but to carry out his threats and destroy her - it simply was what he was made manifest to do. And the evidence against her was damning, given the pack of young padawans she'd been caught shuttling around the cosmos. When he'd stayed his hand, he'd fallen prey to the very thing that would eventually cost him his life. So he had to take hers first, didn't he? There was no question now, it was a matter of life and death... wasn't it?

He'd felt it in her though, in the forest, as sure as he'd known she'd felt the same thing within him - that thing. That question... the uncertainty. The conflict of interest. The blade in the ribs, severing the meat between destiny and the will of the Cosmic Force. And what did he really know of his grandfather's work? The vision he'd glimpsed once, long ago when first he'd laid his hands on the frail, charred carcass of the helmet the man once wore, was fleeting and vague at best. He'd misinterpreted visions before - most recently the one that'd told him he wouldn't be standing alone just now.

You're not alone.

Neither are you.

With Snoke having saturated every layer of his being from his pores to his core like a seeping blood stain, where did Snoke's great design end and the Skywalker Legacy begin? With Snoke a figment of the past, where was the divide between the truth and a lie? Where was the boundary that defined Kylo Ren? He'd known his place in Snoke's plan - he knew the man had foreseen some part that Luke would play in his eventual downfall. That didn't go like he thought it would... But there was a time when he'd felt so certain of his destiny. There was a time, not long ago, when he truly felt he knew what he had to do. He had goals, and a road - a direct, linear route - that would lead him there. But now...

What do you want?

He'd nearly choked when the question - the very question that had hounded him so vigilantly into his current state of sleepless unrest - tumbled with ease from her mouth. He could've asked her the same thing, had wanted to even. Perhaps an actual discourse on their differences and the reasons for their disparate points of view would have made some sort of... sense. But his thoughts and his words often traveled on separate paths - very little of what he meant to say ever came out right. And he'd never really been terribly good at talking to girls, anyway.

"Auxiliary power is go," flight deck staff called from below. Ren leaned left to glance out of the cockpit of the Silencer - he barely heard the man over the roar of testing turbines. The sound was further amplified by the plexiglass canopy hanging overhead, ready to snap shut, seal, and pressurize. "Atmospheric is still red - starting weapons system check now." Per standard safety protocols, Ren made the corresponding checks on the onboard display to sync information back to their databases. He could still feel the hard edges of his safely hidden datapad jabbing at him where it was stuffed beneath his belt.

He'd originally hidden it on his personal command shuttle. While the slicer he'd chosen to... unwittingly carry out his little act of espionage was chosen because he was of a particularly high-scoring talent, he didn't want to take the chance that someone wouldn't notice the unsanctioned download, even though the network node was secure. If it had been traced, he'd preferred to implicate Hux... who used that shuttle just as often. His mouth jerked with a quick smirk as he flipped the switch that lit the HUD for his targeting metrics.

What would have happened if he hadn't had the presence of mind to remove the datapad from that shuttle? The very one stolen by the Turncoat Trooper himself, and the hoard of Rey's young trainees? To peal across the stars directly into Resistance hands? Snoke was notoriously distrustful of his own men - the man was infamous for keeping his baleful, shamanistic secrets. There were reasons why he assembled the First Order and left the Unknown Regions - there were reasons for traversing the Unknown Regions in the first place. Then there was the surface story every Officer was given on their induction and entry into training. No one knew the whole truth.

Except Hux.

The only insight Ren now had into the mind of his dead master lie in the pages of his journal, which he hoped now resided on the warm little datapad that was currently sticking to his back. The very one that, through a terrific stroke of fate, did not end up skipping him completely to tell its sordid tales to his sworn enemies. He'd only removed it because the download was complete, and it had started its decryption process. It only had fifteen percent left to go. Hux already had a copy, and a head start. Ren's position was precarious at best - he had to level the playing field.

Which meant, right now, shooting down that stolen command shuttle was a vital imperative. Children or no children. Failure on this could mean an attempt on his life.

At this point he just wished someone would try their luck already, for stars' sake. The release of tension was definitely needed, the breathless rush of practiced skill and unbridled power was always welcome. He stretched his arms over his head as he watched the engineer below disengage the fuel lines. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck. His muscles were itching and aching for catharsis through combat, his brain thirsty for a bath of flooding endorphins.

"My lord," the slimy sneer of Hux's tone was enough to tick his ire up another notch, "a squadron from the Third Fleet, in the next hangar, is prepping to join you."

"It's just a shuttle, Hux. That won't be necessary." He knew what the good General was trying to do, and it wouldn't work. He would not let himself be caught, ambushed prey, between a set of guns and another set of even more guns, even if he was absolutely confident he could out-shoot them all. Firing on his own men, even to thwart an assassination attempt, could still wind up labeling him a traitor. "Send them to focus cover fire planet-side - we need to get our men out of that mine."

"My... my lord, are you quite... is that the proper..." Hah, listen to him stammer. "B-but the Resistance could- "

"We're still tracking their transponder, aren't we? That's still our ship. Have they made any hails?"

"The only activity we've seen so far, my lord, is a wide sensor sweep, but... but no activity on the communications array, no."

A sensor sweep...? That's a strange action to take for someone trying to make a clean getaway with a cargo of innocent children. What were they looking for? Was it something they left behind? Or maybe... someone? Kriff. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Before he could ruminate on it any longer, the flight deck staff called out again.

"Atmospheric is green, weapons are go. Final check with dock authority - you have the green light in five, your Excellency."

And with that, Hux gave a slight nod as he took his leave. A path was cleared for take off, and the canopy hissed and clicked into place, making his Ren's pop. The count down in his HUD ended. He taxied on impulse to the lip of the hangar, then punched the throttle and tore out into open space. He would do his duty and dispatch the errant shuttle.

Then he'd have no choice. He would circle back... and he'd find the girl.

On the walkway above the hangar Hux paused - hands at his back, shoulders straight. Everything about his personage was square: even and uniform, crisp, neat lines, and sharp, symmetrical angles. Watching the fleet stream out into the stars, he drew a deep breath and savored the sensation of imminent victory. It bubbled in his belly and buzzed between his ears. The plan had formed itself organically, like crystallized sugar on a stick. It required very little effort on his part surprisingly, almost as if it had been ordained by the heavens. There really was only one piece missing, and now he stood an even greater chance of finding that as well. He bounced once, ready to put his wheels into motion. He only had a limited stretch of time before the objectives on Churruma were met and the fleet was back on board.

All of it.

He marched with haste to the command deck where took his rightful place - at the head of his subordinate officers, pacing between them while overseeing operations. Strong leadership skills were highly prevalent in the long line of generations that spanned the Hux name, and he was certainly no exception. He was born with a genetic predisposition toward ruthlessness and cunning, willing to take risks and seize opportunities when they arose. He followed his rounds to Commander Belloth where he stopped and made his opening move.

"Perhaps this world could benefit from one of our new surveillance stations," he told his Minister of Planetary Defense.

"This is a neutral world, I'm sure that would violate a whole mess of- "

"Come off it, man - this is conquest, not a board game. This is war. They can yell at me about rules and treaties when they have enough fire power to do so."

"A careful reminder, General," Belloth gave him a side-eyed glance, "it was their fire power that put us scrambling for better position."

"This is one skirmish, Belloth. I will concede we underestimated them. But they will kneel in time. Now, tell me," he deflected, changing the subject to the matter he found more pressing, "about the station you put in orbit over Korriban. Did you find any... signatures?"

"I was hoping we could talk about this in- "

"The time is now."

"Then... yes, sir. We did pick up an unexplained power signature, and not one we've seen recorded in our archives."

"Very well." Hux could hardly contain himself. It took every ounce of his rigid discipline to maintain his careful composure. "Did you manage to get a recording of its signal?"

"Of course, sir - I wouldn't dream of bringing you news like this if I didn't have something to show for it."

"Good good. Prepare the conference room on the starboard wing, deck nine. I want you to bring your sample and your scans of the planet. Go now. The iron is hot."

For too long the Order had relied on credits to purchase equipment that was purposefully faulty. For too long their technologists had performed their most admirable work using designs provided by vendors that were mistakenly trusted... and were ultimately proven to be flawed from the onset. For far too long too many lives had been lost and too many plans had been thwarted - destinies delayed - for a system that was built to benefit only one very large, very all-encompassing, very shadowy entity.

No more.

Belloth should be pleased, he thought to himself. The time for action has finally arrived.

He left parting orders for his subordinates, then immediately turned and exited the bridge of the ship. His feet were pumping with such purpose that his stiff collar began to dampen with sweat. He saluted his fellow officers in the hallways as he strode, but never stopped to make conversation. His fingers impatiently tapped his leg while he waited for the elevator to deliver him to the proper deck. He did his best to minimize each precious minute that was lost to transit, but soon enough he reached his destination - the chambers adjacent to those belonging to their Supreme Leader.

The newly furnished domicile had once been a dressing room and closet, but whereas Snoke had delighted in such lavish things as entire parcels of space that were devoted solely to frivolous means, Ren could not possibly have cared any less to relinquish it. The room itself was under heavy surveillance and was also most certainly under lock and key. Which naturally meant Hux knew the code for the door. Sitting inside on a plush purple bed was the young boy named Ali. He was curled with his knees touching his chin, perched at the far edge of Hux's shadow cast by the stark, obtrusive lighting in the hallway. The whites of his eyes glistened in the low light. He was scared, and powerful. And therefore unpredictable. Hux had seen first hand what the child was capable of. He vowed not to, twice on the day, make the mistake of underestimating someone. Paternal guilelessness was not a strong trait in Hux's wheelhouse, but he gave it his best shot. He had to win the boy over - if he couldn't, this opportunity would be lost.

"It's alright, child, don't be frightened," he began, choosing to remain beyond the threshold, once again characteristically clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm only here to see how you're settling in. Do you have everything you need? Are you... chilly?"

"I'm fine," the boy lied before pressing his lips into his knees.

"Hmm," Hux responded, "if you insist. I'm consistently told that the climate aboard this ship is too arid or too cool. It's a new ship, and we're... striving to achieve our new normal, I suppose. It's a constant struggle, temperature..." Running out of small talk, he trailed off. "Do you mind if I come in?"

The boy only wrinkled his squashed up nose as he shook his head. Given permission, Hux entered and allowed the light from the hallway to further illuminate the room, now that his body was no longer acting as a barrier. The darkness inside was calm and soothing, broken only by a pair of cheery orange salt lamps, and one tall red taper - the same kind Ren sometimes used during meditation. Hux flung a curt gesture at the guards stationed at the door, shooing them away and ordering privacy.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" he asked as he took a tentative seat at the foot of the bed.

"The General," the boy said.

"Yes, yes, but... hmm," he tucked his hands between his knees as he considered his words. "Let me ask you this. What do you think of your new Master? What do you believe you have in common with him?"

The boy lifted his eyes slightly, assuming there was likely a correct answer to the question, and an incorrect answer... and he knew which was which.

"The... the Force?" he answered bravely.

"Yes. Very much yes," Hux nodded gravely before clapping his hands together once. "Very good - very good answer. But can you think of anything else?"

The boy furrowed his brow and cast his searching gaze down to the floor, as if he would find the knowledge he sought in the cracks between the shiny black tiles.

"It's alright, it's alright," Hux reassured him with a pat on the shoulder, "it's okay if you can't think of anything. You haven't known him as long as I have, so I'll answer for you. There isn't anything else. Would it shock you to know you share more in common with me than with him?"

The boy, curious, met his eye but had nothing to say. His expression was question enough.

"That jacket," Hux continued, pointing at the article of clothing the boy had been wearing when he arrived. It currently sat folded in the seat of a chair across the dimly lit room. "Did that belong to someone? Your father, maybe? Grandfather? Uncle?"

"Father," Ali mumbled softly, his face shrinking back down to his knees.

"He's dead, isn't he," Hux guessed. The boy's hair fell over his eyes as he nodded. "Yes, I suspected as much. So is mine. War does a funny thing to fathers and sons..." Hux huffed a rare laugh and paused for the appearance of shared grief. He picked at the fingernails of his left hand while he allowed the moment of silence to comfort the boy. "I was taken from my mother, too," he went on eventually. "I was young, like you. Younger than you, even." He didn't need to know how much younger - if he'd mentioned he was stolen as an infant, he would have given the impression he wasn't as attached to his mother. The effect wouldn't have been the same. "Everyone on this ship was a stolen child once, did you know that?"

That caught the boy's attention. He looked up and shook his head slowly no.

"It's true. We've all ascended into the greatness that is the Order, but there's a part inside of each of us that still grieves for the family we lost. But... do you know who didn't lose his family? Do you know who wasn't a stolen child like us?"

Again the boy answered no.

"Kylo Ren. I know, I know, but it's true. He came to us freely. He was never taken. He spent his youth with his mother and his father like any normal child. His mother was even a princess once, did you know that? Oh yes. He had a wealthy, influential family, and parents who loved him. And then he left them, left all of it - his training under the infamous Luke Skywalker, all of it. Do you know where all of those people are now? All of those people who loved him?"

This time the boy was almost afraid to say no.

"He murdered them. All of them. You see, in order to devote yourself fully to the Force - in order to fully receive the honor and the glory of its dark power, in order to earn the right to bear the name Sith... you must cut all attachments. Kill them... if you have to. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

They boys eyes widened in slowly dawning terror.

"I'm telling you that, should he decide to truly accept you as his apprentice... he will ask you to kill your mother."

Finn had one eye out the view screen watching the landscape streak beneath them, and one eye on the targeting HUD to watch for chasing fighters. His hands had a vicious vice grip on the flight controls. Between breaths he wiped his face against his shoulder to prevent sweat from salting and stinging his eyes.

"We're not in space yet," Omar complained loudly from his seat at the port gun. "Why are we not in space yet?" After securing the children in the remaining seats, Lena took her own at the starboard gun.

"We're getting there," Finn replied tersely.

"You know it's up, right? We have to go up?"

There was the ping again - she was right there, the display said she was right there... where was she?

"You know, I could drive if you want me t- "

"There!"

Just there, on the road that bisected the thick green forest of dense trees and plump ferns - just below was a figure walking that was decidedly taller and less strangely colored than what could be classified as one of the natives. The onboard sensors told Finn that the figure was wearing Rey's beacon. It had to be her. He circled around as he descended and she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to face them, startled to be approached so closely by the large black shape of a First Order command shuttle, looming above her like a hungry bird of prey. Her stance was defensive but she still raised a hand to her eyes to shield them from the wind and the dust of their exhaust.

"Take the controls," Finn ordered Omar as he brought the craft into a tightly controlled hover, and pounded one fist down onto the button that activated the lift gate. He raced the three steps it took to drop outside, anxious to announce himself before she got nervous enough to make an offensive maneuver.

"Rey!" he shouted at her. She squinted and seemed to recognize him, albeit a little too slowly. It was then, when he could see her more clearly, that he noticed the trickle of blood on the right side of her forehead. He rushed to her and took her hand, pleased she didn't protest this time the way she had once on Jakku. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused - it was hard to tell if she was merely dazed from a head injury or if it was... something else. Wrapping his other arm around her shoulders, he ushered her onto the shuttle.

"You stole a different ship," she muttered, seeming to begin finding a way out of her fog.

"This one has hyperdrive," he replied matter-of-factly as the ramp closed behind them.

"Oh yes, that's definitely helpful!"

"And it's definitely getting used, hold onto your knickers!" Omar called as he barreled down on the throttle and pointed them toward the sky. Finn fell backwards from the force of the inertia, wincing and grabbing his thigh out of reflex.

"You're hurt," Rey muttered, pinching her eyebrows with worry.

"So are you," Finn replied, nonplussed, as he claimed a seat beside her. "But this is just a scratch. Little bacta and a bandage and I'll be perfect as passion fruit pie. What's that about...?" His voice grew soft as he pointed at the swelling and purpling bruise that was spreading across her forehead. "Did you... did you see him...?"

She let her head hang, and her face was tough to read. He saw none of the horror that he'd prepared himself to see. He didn't see any anger either, or any lingering disgust. Instead she almost looked... sad. And perhaps a little disappointed. And tired - the same way Ren had looked when he'd seen him. Spent and tired.

"Yes," she finally confirmed, nodding thoughtfully as if she was still replaying the scene in her mind.

"Did he do that to you?" Perhaps it came out a bit too forcefully.

"It's not what you think," she spoke evenly, her eyes still distant and pensive. "I pushed first, I thought he'd go after the children. He pushed back. A bit harder than he meant to. Heh," she breathed a small laugh, "he even said he was sorry." She quirked a glance up at him. "Is it weird that that's weird?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "no... that's definitely weird. But he is kiiind of a weird guy."

"He definitely is."

"So you fought him then?"

"No." She shook her head, screwing up her eyebrows again. "I mean, well... I do think that was his intention originally, yes. But... but that's not what ended up happening."

"At some point you felt like shoving him, though."

"Finn, he's Kylo Ren. He makes everyone feel like shoving him."

"Heh, fair."

"Right? But no... to answer your question, he did try. Twice. Finn," she turned to him in disbelief, "he couldn't do it. He tried twice and he couldn't do it."

"Okay, soooo... what did happen?"

"We just... talked."

"Talked."

"Yeah..."

"Wow. Just... really? That's, uh... heh. That's the healthiest and most adult thing I've ever heard of him doing. Not to mention the most anti-climatic..."

"To be honest," she admitted, "I think it would've been a whole lot easier if he had just wanted to fight."

"What makes you say that?"

She chewed her lip for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. In her slightly disoriented state, he imagined it was a little like trying to catch butterflies in a net.

"He's at a crossroads, Finn," she said after a moment. "You can hear it when he talks... see it on his face. When we'd left Crait, he'd just faced his greatest fear, he'd just faced Luke. He was still angry - we all saw how angry he was - but in that moment, as I was closing the hatch on the Falcon, I saw him. And he was... on the other side of it."

"Of... of the hatch...?"

"No, no," she laughed, smacking his shoulder, "his anger! Pay attention! Before that happened, he'd been on a road - a very particular road toward a very particular destination. A goal. It was about finding acceptance. The kind he'd never really found in his family. I understand that now - I know what he's feeling. From his perspective, they were... afraid of him, all of them. To the point they either wanted to ignore the problem completely or just... give up on it. And the only person who had given him any sense of worth was Snoke. But this is Snoke we're talking about. To find any acceptance with him, Ben had to give himself completely over to the dark side of the Force. That's why he's done everything he's done, Finn. His father, everything. The dark side requires he cut all of his attachments. Which..." she dropped her hands into her lap and stared at them, "now also includes me. But... but he couldn't do it. He failed to harm me just as he failed to harm his mother - just as he's failed to ever fully surrender to the dark side like Snoke had asked him to. And he finally saw the truth behind what Snoke really wanted from him - he saw that his father was right, and that he was only being manipulated as a means to an end. And everything he'd gone through was just... He killed Snoke for the same reason he wanted to kill Luke. Because he withheld his acceptance.

"In a small way... he's like me, Finn. That's what this... connection - this bond - is all about. He's just lost and... and overwhelmed. And alone. He's trying to find his own way. He's trying to make choices. Which is why Luke was the fork in the road. He got to say what he wanted to say and he got to swing his blade, and now it's over. And now he has to decide which way to take from there.

"Which is what makes it so hard. When I was talking to him... I was never really sure of who I was talking to. And I feel like, if he'd actually decided to fight me, at least he would have made a choice and we'd know who we're dealing with."

"I'd prefer that NOT be the choice he makes, thank you very much," Omar grumbled over his shoulder at them. "Not while he still has Ali."

"Ali...?!" Rey gasped as she craned her head around. "What do you mean, where is - where is Ali?"

"There," Omar said morosely as he jabbed a finger at the view screen. They had just crested planetary orbit and there, a faint black line in the distance glowing with ambient starlight, was the menacing shape of the Vindicator.

But that wasn't all.

"What's...that," Lena whispered to her father.

It started as a glimmer, a tiny flash of movement against a pinpricked panorama of black. But the way it suddenly got bigger told them the object was zooming toward them at an alarming, breakneck speed. And then Finn could truly see it - the sharp, angular form of a ship he'd recognize anywhere.

"Oh no..." he exclaimed as he limped to his feet. "It's the Silencer, Rey! He's coming!"

"Well, he's gonna eat a load of my stardust, then," Omar jeered as he coiled up the hyperdrive engines, "because we're hitting the 'lanes, my friends!"

"No, no - it'll never work!" Finn shouted, clambering his way into the seat at the port gun. "Swing it around - I'll take the shot!"

"Are you INSANE?! You can't fire on that guy! Have you seen the arsenal of overcompensation he's got aiming at us?"

"It's the only way!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"This is a First Order ship!" Finn reminded him. "There's a tracer on it - every Order ship has one, even Ren's. It helps them..." his voice trailed off with the admission, "it helps them track deserters."

"So... so we're just sitting ducks then, that's what you're telling me? These kids! These kids are sitting ducks!"

Finn hazarded a look back at the precious cargo filling the seats in the cabin. He made himself look at the mortal terror in their eyes. He made himself watch their tears. He made himself remember the ones he shed every night as a boy as he iced the fresh bruises he'd received in rough training, trying to remember the arms of a mother he never had.

And then he saw Rey. She was no longer in her seat, but sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cabin. Her hands were resting open on her knees, and her head was bowed low, eyes closed.

"Don't do it, Rey," he begged her, but it was too late and he knew it was likely their only chance. He slowly turned back to the view screen to stare directly into the face of the warship itself, its wings spearing outward like pointed black fangs. Oddly, it hung motionless in the sky. Lena had covered her face with her hands while her father clasped her shoulder tightly. Finn could only hold his breath.

Behind them, Rey softly spoke.

"Ben?"

"Ben," he heard his name on her voice again, calling through the sudden weirdly-more-silent-than-silence. "Answer me, Ben, I know you can hear me."

The open bond that once was closed sucked at him like a vacuum. Like a gaping hull breach. His hand was shaking on the flight controls, his thumb trembling on the button that would decide their fate... and his. He was flushed so hot he couldn't breath, but sweat like icicles melted down his back. He was nauseous and his hands felt sticky inside his gloves so he ripped them off. He ripped them off and he threw them hard against his control panel where they landed with loud leather smacks.

"NO!" he screamed at himself. "NOOOO NO!"

He slammed a bare fist into the canopy over his head so hard he heard something pop and crack, and he left a smear of blood behind on the plexiglass.

The pain was a comfort. The pain was something he could endure. The pain was something he could conquer, something he could overcome. It was a goal he could achieve. It brought him peace. He tugged and raked his fingers through his hair in bewilderment and frustration.

"Ben, the boy you have - his name is Ali," he heard her again, and this time he looked up. "Ben, you have to make a choice."

She stepped toward him, approaching the view screen of their shuttle, and the man who had escaped with the Traitor shuffled out of her way, not entirely comprehending what was taking place. It was too late for Ren to ignore her, he'd already made eye contact.

"Ben," she placed her fingers on the view screen and magically everything else fell away and she was right in front of him - right outside, out there floating so near her fingerprints made pinpoints of condensation on the canopy of his own ship. Right in front of his face. "There are things I don't know about you. I know it. There are things I... there are things that no one understands. But I do know for certain you would never raise your weapon to a child.

"Please, Ben - Ali has a mother. A mother who loves him and misses him very much." There were tears in her eyes and her voice was strained. "She only gave him up because she knew she couldn't keep him safe. If she'd kept him for herself then he'd be dead... or worse, and you know that. A mother will do anything to keep her baby safe, Ben, please - she would give anything to have him back."

He couldn't say anything. The knot growing in his throat was tight as a noose. He could only stiffly swallow as she continued.

"He doesn't understand what's happening and why, and he's scared. He's scared and angry and sad and he thinks he's completely alone. He just wants someone to find him. And he just wants to go home."

And for a split second he was transported back in time - to a shivering, weeping wisp of a dark, miserable young boy, slumped alone on a tiny, unfamiliar wooden bed in a tiny, unfamiliar wooden room next to an unpacked satchel of painful memories. He couldn't breathe. He squeezed the fingers of the hand he'd used to punch the canopy until a trickle of blood pooled between them.

"I know we can't get him back, Ben. But please just... just don't hurt him. Or these little ones. There are children on this ship, Ben. Please. They just want to go home. Please."

Innocent children she'd train. An innocent army she'd use to fight him someday, murder him maybe. An entire army of Jedi that meant him nothing but harm - that only held him in contempt and revulsion. Jedi who would never understand him, who would never forgive him his bloodline. Jedi who thought he was better off dead.

But her eyes as she peered at him through the glass... her soft, sweet eyes. He could still see them in his mind, even when they weren't there. Just now they shone with something more than fear or sadness. It was a naked sort of barefaced plea. It wasn't just for the children - there was something else as well. He could feel it in her as much as he knew she could feel it in him, like a shining silver thread that bound them. It was something... something shifting and nameless. Something not entirely designed by Fate or the Universe or the Force or whatever. Something he was afraid to define, because then it would be real.

And it was dangerous. It asked a dangerous question.

What do you want.

A choice. Any other choice. He was desperate for clarity, his insides raging - his mind tumbling and rolling, searching for other options and finding none. But then the Force deigned to send him exactly what he asked for... in the worst way possible. Rey jerked her head around - something had caught her attention. Startled, he perked up in his seat and twisted around, trying to follow her line of sight.

Pouring out of the Vindicator were the fighters of the Third Squadron, the ones Hux had been ordered to send down to the planet below. They were clearly not following those orders. And if they were approaching to assist him, they would have made contact on the proper channel. The fact that his transponder had remained chillingly quiet told him something ugly and terrifying. Those fighters had orders on someone else's authority... and they meant him no good. In spite of all that was at stake, he couldn't help the sigh of relief that slid through his parted lips.

The choice was made. And he'd have his fight. There could be no evidence. Cornered and resolute, he finally spoke to her.

"You have to open fire, Rey."

She nodded once and faded out of his periphery, and he turned to stare at the obnoxious, blinking red light on his console - the one that impeded itself upon his fuel gauge and the holo that gave him his Z-axis. He considered it for as long as he could, chewing his lip and gripping his sweating palms against the legs of his pants.

"The choice is made," he repeated to himself, "there can be no evidence." It was out of his hands. He flipped the switch next to the light and turned off his in-flight recorder, breaking about one hundred and twenty-four different regulations that were his job to maintain and diligently defend. As the first round of blasts sailed past his nose, he yanked the stick and the ship yawed away in a wide arc before tucking into a defensive barrel roll.

It was time to begin.

"HAIL THEM!" Omar screamed in panic as Rey took the seat at the controls and kicked out the throttle, rocketing them away and making themselves more of a moving target. "Tell them there are children!"

"They already know," Finn replied through grit teeth as he flailed the gunnery stick around, fervently concentrating on trying to line up well placed shots. "They have their orders - you don't know what happens to officers that disobey orders. You could have the Queen of Naboo on board and they wouldn't care."

"We should be in a hyperlane right now," Omar grumbled as he shooed his daughter away from the starboard gun, preferring to make himself useful rather than sit helpless.

Rey did her best to shut them out and ignore the throbbing haze of pain that still radiated from the point where her skull had made contact with a large, grey boulder. She tried, instead, to reach deep and down into that place in her mind where she and Ben still remained bound together - the place where she kept him as a resource, the place where she categorized his power and his knowledge and his training.

And this time, his skill as a pilot. The son of the fabled Han Solo.

Dodging streams of gunfire, she glanced at him when she could, watching in awe as he skirted gracefully away in angles that would have stalled an engine in atmo. He led two of the fighers off, spiralling through space in a dexterous and tightly maintained corkscrew before he dumped his starboard booster and flipped around to face his attacker. That's when it dawned on her...

"They're- " she muttered, trying not to give up her focus and get them all killed, "they're firing on him! Why would they do that?"

"Can't look!" Finn told her. "Too busy!"

Ben had expertly dispatched one fighter, while the other did its best to pull away. In a maneuver she would never have thought of on her own, Ben cut his engines entirely, allowing the minimal gravitational pull of the planet to sink him naturally free of the debris field he'd just created. The remaining fighter lost one of his engines to a chunk, not able to pull free in time. The Silencer, however, remained unscathed. Once clear, he kicked the throttle and resumed the chase, tearing off into the black and out of her line of sight.

She had her own fighter to worry about, and it was gaining ground with every second. It was a faster and more agile machine, but she was more cunning and Ben had just given her an idea.

"Is everyone secured? Get strapped in! I'm gonna try something!"

"Wha-" Omar gasped, "what does THAT mean?"

"Hold on!"

"When did we STOP holding on?!"

She gunned the throttle and jabbed the flight controls forward, and then she cut her engines. The shuttle tucked over into a lazy sort of somersault, aided by gravity.

"KRIFFING STARS!" Omar yelled while Finn only grunted. "YOU PEOPLE ARE CRAZY!" Children squealed behind her and someone even laughed. She thought it might have been Lena. She didn't turn to look.

Before they rolled over, Rey smiled as she watched the fighter streak past overhead. Just when she thought her craft wouldn't be able to right itself on its own leftover inertia, she punched the throttle and brought it back around, now behind their target.

"TAKE THAT!" Finn cheered and let loose his volley. Rey tugged them port just in time to avoid the flaming cloud of shrapnel.

"Hee heeee!" giggled the youngest girl to her brother. "He shot him in the butt!"

It was too soon to celebrate, though. A sudden blast rocked the ship, toppling them wildly, forcing Rey to grapple with the controls momentarily and fight keep hold of the ship.

"What was..." Finn breathed as they looked up and saw searing orange sparks scorching a wound across the end of their starboard wing. The wobbling, severed end of it broke loose and floated off into the stars.

"It's not serious," Rey replied, wiping the sweat from her face and rolling the tension out of her shoulders. It was true, it wasn't an immediate threat... but it could present an issue when they decided to land. "Where's the third one? I don't see- "

She nearly jumped out of her seat when the under belly of the Silencer plunged down on top of them out of nowhere, cutting across their view screen and missing them by only meters. Chasing after him like a rabid wild animal was their last fighter. The pilot made the mistake of following a vector before recognizing where it would take him. In this case, it placed him squarely between the firing ranges of his two adversaries. Rey couldn't imagine he didn't see the shots coming, there was no way he didn't. Perhaps he'd just given up, and preferred a quick death to the alternative: facing a failure punishable by the might of the First Order. It was a harsh reality, and she found she didn't blame him.

When all was still and quiet, and her pulse was no longer hammering between her ears - when all that was left was a chorus of exhilarated breath, Rey looked out across the stars as the Silencer languidly floated into their view. Inside, indicator lights casting bleak shadows across his features, was Ben. He was perched forward, leaning with his arms crossed over the shaft of his flight controls. His dark, black eyes seemed darker still - hollow, like a dead man walking to the gallows. He worked his jaw for a moment with his hair in his face, his neck and shoulders corded and tight. He finally flicked his face up to meet hers and one ungloved hand reached out to press a switch. Instantly a signal chimed in the cabin of the command shuttle, announcing the incoming hail on the Silencer's ship-to-ship, short wave frequency. Tentatively, Rey reached over, opened the line, and waited.

For several long moments, she waited. He passed a hand through his hair and over his face, and she waited. He pursed his lips... and she waited. He sat breathing as he watched the stars, enjoying what brief calm he could, a soul damned to misery and treachery. And she waited. At last he spoke.

"Your ship has a tracer," she heard him say, his voice in her ears this time, instead of in her mind.

"We know," was all she could say, and none of what she wanted to say.

"I can see it from here. I can..." he closed his eyes and sighed. "I can shoot it. Shoot it off. It's small, and not near anything vital. It would only take one shot."

"Rey..." Finn began, his voice edged with warning and distrust. But he was faced with the same indecision - they couldn't leave the system with it still attached. It was an offer that was hard to refuse. And if he'd really wanted to blast them all to smithereens...

"You know I won't miss," Ben continued, sensing their unease. "But I need you to do something for me."

"What do you need?" she breathed, her eyes holding his, the edges of her own sorrow bleeding over into his, mingling like ripples on a pond.

"Do you see this?" he pointed to a small collection of antennae over his left shoulder. "This array?"

"I do," she answered.

"It's connected to a junction box. I need you to shoot it."

"Ben," she questioned him with worry. "That'll... won't that blow power to your console?"

"Yes," he answered, somber.

"What... what about your life support?"

"It has a backup."

"But... but you'll be flying blind!"

"I know."

"What if they send more fighters, Ben? Your weapons - your guidance!"

"I... I've dealt with worse."

"Ben... what if I miss?"

"You won't." He tapped his fingers lightly on the console. "I turned off my flight recorder, Rey. You know I can't go back without it reasonably damaged."

"He's right, he can't," she heard Finn whisper. She knew he was beside her, but in that moment he felt so far away. Everything felt far away - even the light of the system's sun seemed so distant, as far away as her hopes and her needs, as far away as everything... everything except...

"Come with us," she heard her own disembodied voice beg before she drew a heady breath.

"What?!" Omar reacted, sounding miles away. "Is she NUTS?!" She ignored him.

"Don't go back," she said, thin and hoarse, but with power. "Come with us."

Ben didn't say anything. He couldn't. He only stared at her, cherishing the request as his own secret desires plucked tenderly at the silver thread of their bond. The tears that welled in his eyes drew a fiery, shining line, capturing the color of the yellow star that brought life to the planet below.

"Not without Ali!" she heard Omar say, and something, somewhere, snapped. Broken. Her empathy slapped her out of her stupor - she would die before she became the kind of person who could abandon a scared young boy. Her hopes were once again in vain, and their impasse was as bittersweet as an unfulfilled fantasy.

"Rey," was Ben's ragged whisper. Not ready to hear his answer, she pressed her fingers once more to the view screen. She reached out and out, searching endlessly for any sign of his warmth - anything that wasn't the icy chill of space and heartache.

"If I go with you," he continued, firm to mask his longing, "then Hux is the Supreme Leader." He hitched a breath, then pointed behind him in the vague direction of the Vindicator. "And he has that. All of that."

But I'd have you. And you'd have me. She just wasn't ready to say it. She wasn't even sure what she'd do if she heard him say it. So she let him have her silent tears instead. She let her head fall in acceptance. She remained mute and unflinching as his one, well-placed shot removed the tracer from their ship... and mercifully set them free.

"Are you ready?" she made herself ask as she reached for Finn's gunnery stick.

"Rey..." he called to her and she clamped a solid lid down on her heaving inhibitions.

"Yes?"

"We- " he choked and finally a tear left him, releasing its tiny river to follow the channel of the scar that marked the length of his face. "We can't see each other again."

No. There was no way she would acknowledge that. Absolutely not. That wasn't how this war was supposed to end - she knew it. She saw it, so clear and so real the very first time she touched him. She would see him again - there was no way it wouldn't happen. There was no galaxy big enough to keep them apart if it was the will of the Cosmic Force that they be together. And when they did meet next, there would be no more talk. There would be no more airing of grievances, there would be no more empty threats, there would be no more salty banter, there would be no more negotiations. She would do what she had to do. She would take him by his hair, she would drag him kicking and screaming, she would freeze him in carbonite - she would make him her prisoner if that's what it took. She shoved a hot fist in her face, wiping her nose and drying her eyes. She chewed on her determination, she narrowed her sights and she took her shot, and when the sparks faded she left him drowning in that darkness he liked so much while she made her definitive plans.

There would be a next time, oh yes... and next time she wasn't leaving without him.

"Now don't be frightened, boy," Hux cooed, letting one hand span the diminutive space between the child's small, bony shoulder blades. It took all the strength he could manage not to scowl with distaste at the slimy, dripping grimace the boy made as he cried. "I'm here to help you, we all are. You're like us, and we help our own. I know who your mother is," he lied, "and I will take you home to her. Just think - within days you could be back in your old bed, playing with your old friends, like none of this ever happened. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Leaving a wet, snotty trail behind on his sleeve, the child wiped his face and nodded.

"I just need you to do one thing for me," he prefaced and set his trap. "Something very easy, very simple. I just need you to show me something. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes," the boy agreed, readily shaking his head. Hux briskly snapped his fingers, and a guard reappeared at the door. After a few mumbled instructions, the man produced a washcloth, cold and wet from a sink, that was intended to be used for cleaning up the boy's eyes and nose.

"Come, before your Master returns," Hux commanded once the child was more presentable, standing and offering his hand. "And we'll keep this our little secret, yes?"

"But... but what if he- "

"Now, don't you worry about him," Hux smiled his most wolfish, most reassuring grin, "you leave him to me." Mollified, the boy happily trailed alongside his new, trusted friend all the way to the conference room on the starboard wing, deck nine. Inside Commander Belloth was waiting, leaning casually against the black laquered table. Atop it was a brilliant holo projector, currently displaying the gently revolving image of a dusty, barren planet. The boy hesitated at the door, but ultimately his blind faith in empty promises pulled his feet inside.

"This is Commander Belloth," Hux waved a hand in introduction to his fellow officer, further pacifying any lingering doubts or fears, "and this," he pointed to the display, "is Korriban. Belloth is going to play a signal for you. It is emanating from somewhere on this planet, here. What I'd like for you to do is listen to it, then reach out through the Force and see if you can tell me where it is coming from - just... point to it on the map. Very simple, yes?"

He could tell by the way the boy's eyes widened that it was anything but a simple request for someone who was completely untrained in the ways of the Force. Ordinarily, Hux wouldn't even be certain the Force worked that way if he didn't already know that Snoke had used this very method to narrow his scope down to Korriban. He'd only died before he found the damned thing. Which also meant he died before mentioning a word about it to anyone outside of his own private logs.

There was no better opportunity. He couldn't let Ren have this. They had to try.

"It's alright," Hux told the boy, "it's okay. If you can't find it, I won't be angry, and I won't blame you. I just... I just want you to try. Can you do that for me? Can you try?"

Bolstered with permission to fail, the boy found his confidence.

"Yes," he said.

"Very good. Belloth, if you wouldn't mind."

Within moments, the crackling buzz of static filled the room. The boy took a pair of cautious steps toward the image of the planet, gazing up at it as he listened and studied its features. He licked his lips and reached a hand out toward it, his face bathed in its serene blue glow. He muttered something to himself that Hux struggled to hear. It sounded like he'd said something about searching for the spaces in between. Something about cold. The boy then shifted his feet and squared them with his shoulders, then he closed his eyes and cocked his head to one side. He only stood and just... listened. And reached out.

"... cold..." he said again.

"What's that?"

"... between..."

"Between what?" Hux grew perplexed. What if they couldn't decipher the message? What if Snoke's journal had been misinterpreted, and the signal was just a fluke? What if Korriban was a misdirection entirely?

"It's... cold... cold where it lives... the Force..."

"I don't understand - what does that mean?"

"... have to follow the cold... down..."

"Down... down where?" What if nothing ever ended up making any sense?

"The dark," the boy replied, sounding alarmed. Nervous. "Follow the dark, deep down. Find... find their eyes..."

"Whose eyes?"

The boy's own eyes flew open, and his outstretched hand became a point. Excited, eager to prove his worth and his success, he skirted the edge of the table, searching the floating, transparent globe for just the right spot.

"Deep, deep down," the boy smiled and shook one finger at his mark when he found it. "There! Follow it there!"

"Belloth, has your new station performed subsurface scans?"

"Only on your orders, General," he replied dutifully, "but that's a very simple thing once those coordinates pass into view of the satellite."

"Good good. Be sure that is done. And if you wouldn't mind, please summon the interfleet transport - I wish to be aboard the dreadnought, Aggressor, within the hour. You've done so well, child," Hux beamed as he squeezed the boy's shoulders, then took his chin in his fingertips. "Have you ever had candied plum tart? What say you to a piece?"

"But sir," Belloth beckoned, "won't Lord Ren grow suspicious of your absence upon his return?"

"Let him," Hux replied, suddenly cocksure in his good fortune. "Ren will be understandably quite busy making certain our new guest here is reasonably comfortable - now tut tut, have no fear, child, a promise is a promise," he told him as he tapped the boy's nose lightly with one fingertip. "Come then, something sweet awaits." Wrapping an arm around the boy, he escorted him into the dark, dismal corridor to make way for the mess hall. At long last he would finally enact the next stage of his winsome plan. The taste of success that tickled his tongue made him salivate far more than any anticipation of a decadent dessert. He savored its every drop.

"Besides," he called over his shoulder as Belloth extinguished the light on the holo projector, "there are plenty of reasons for me to take my leave. Just... tell him I'm meeting with Sienar-Jaemus to discuss their new line of luxury command shuttles. Do we not find ourselves in need of a replacement?"

"Indeed sir," was Belloth's dull echo. "Indeed."